


Home Alone

by comeheredarlingg



Category: The Outsiders (1983), The Outsiders - S. E. Hinton
Genre: Funny, Gen, Home Alone Inspired Shenanigans, Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 05:47:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18424119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comeheredarlingg/pseuds/comeheredarlingg
Summary: Curly Shepard wakes up to an empty house. The whereabouts of Angela and Tim: unknown. Little does he know he's not the only one home





	Home Alone

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to switch things up and try a little different style of writing to fit the tone of this fic let me know if it worked

"HUh-" Curly woke up with a start. He wrestled with the tangled sheets before he finally broke free. The summer breeze blew through the windows raising the goosebumps on his arms and back. Curly quickly slipped on the first shirt he spotted on the floor. He sat at the edge of his bed and paused for a second. Something didn't feel right, the hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up told him to be on alert. He strained to hear any other sign of life in their home, the familiar muffled music coming of Angela's room or even the sound of the TV from downstairs.

Then it hit him. _It was completely quiet._

The sun was setting already so Angela should be home. Tim hates when she doesn't come back after dark especially since this side of town wasn't exactly known for the upstanding gentlemen roaming the streets after dusk. If Tim finds out Angel snuck out again he promised to skin her like a cat, but that's the funny thing about Angel she slips in and out without him noticing.

The sky was a dark blue as the faint streaks of red slowly began to fade away the breeze was chillier now that the sun was gone. Curly spaced out as the blood red streaks across the sky looked like it was painted on and he thought Pony would probably like the colors. The rattling from the broken mosquito screen broke his trance and prompted Curly to get up.

"ANGELA!" Curly called out while struggling to find socks in the dark before his eyes slowly adjusted to the soft light from the moon. No answer. Curly took a deep breath. "ANGEL!" he called out one more time. This time louder than the first. Still no answer. He expected some kind of protest, she hates being called Angel.

Giving up, Curly found his way to the bathroom, still sleepy, to wash his face. His hand flew up to turn the light switch on, a motion he had done many times it was basically muscle memory. Every time, the light has faithfully lit up as one would expect a lightbulb to do. But the bathroom remained dark, the only light source coming from the moon herself. Confused Curly turned the switch off and back on. Nothing.

 _What the hell is happening today_ he thought to himself.

It was starting to make him anxious. But no tough greaser would ever admit to getting a bit jumpy because of the _dark_.

He flicked the switch up and down a couple times. The idea was for the light to turn on if Curly continued to mess with the switch. The light flickered to life, and Curly sighed with relief. He hated the dark but he would never bring himself to admit that to any of his siblings. When he was four, sure it was understandable, but at this age he would make himself the laughingstock of the whole Shepard gang. The bulb shed a dim yellow glow as it flickered back and forth, tethering on the edge of burning out and burning out.

He reached out and turned the faucet on, the familiar rattle of the pipes before the first drops of water found their way through. Tim insisted on being the handyman. Curly winced. He quickly pulled his hand back the sensitive pain receptors in his hands alerting him of the fact that the water was too hot for his face. Adjusting the temperature, Curly cupped his hands beneath the stream of water and washed his face. The water alternated between too hot or cold and the feeling of water rushing through his hands became a weird sensation, alerting every nerve in his hands. Feeling newly awakened but unsettled, he looked up at his own reflection.

The edges of the mirror itself was slightly blackened with aged. It showed the battle scars of belonging to a teenage boy as the mirror had splotches of tooth paste and scratches decorating it like battle scars.

The scar on his forehead was glaring and prominent in the dim lighting. His own image distorted by the blackened edges of the mirror and the shadows drew attention to Curly's prominent cheekbones. The light gave his face an eerily sickly look and Curly promptly looked away. Ever since waking up, he felt as if the house itself was playing tricks on him. 

The hairs on his neck stood up and a shiver snaked down his spine when he heard the rattling of the broken window screen once again. Curly cursed under his breath. Of course, there was no such thing as ghosts, but right now he sure believed in them. He closed the window tugged the latches to ensure this time it was secure. 

Softly he walked down the hall to the stairs. His eyes slowly adjusted to the dark after the sun had fully set. Still, the stairs seemed to disappear into a dark abyss.

The worn staircase creaked under Curly's weight as he carefully stepped down trying to avoid the loudest parts of the aged wood. He let out a sigh of relief he didn't realize he was holding in until he reached the end of the stars.

Too dark to see, Curly felt around the wall for a light switch. That's when a soft and light touch that brushed against his calf sent Curly sprinting down the hall to the living room. He panted from the rush of fear awakening every nerve in his body. His heart beat was erratic. The sound of blood rushing to his head left him dizzy.

The sound of the door slamming shut startled Curly. He jumped behind Tim's favorite armchair. Crouched and ready for anything.

"Hey dumbass what are you doing behind the chair?" the familiar sound of Angela's voice filled the room. Curly peeked over. In her arms, the stray tabby cat that roamed their neighborhood. Its yellow eyes glanced at him with a knowing look. It purred contentedly in Angela's arms. _God, I fucking hate cats_ he thought.

"Uhh nothing... I dropped something?" he futilely tried to pretend to look around for anything.

"Don't tell me you were scared to be alone" Angela smirked her voice full of incredulity and let the cat go. "Just wait till I tell Tim"


End file.
